ARIA
There's no need to say another word.
Eagerly, Nicco's finger slips inside my panties, lightly grazing the sensitive folds of my pussy. I shiver at his touch. He dips inside me but for a moment and asks, "Still sore, baby?"
I wince. "Just a little."
His finger slows. "Do you want me to stop?"
"Never."
A ghost of a smile teases his lips. "Good girl."
I close my eyes and let him finger fuck me, gently, sweetly, until heat and slickness begin to build between my legs. God, that feels so fucking amazing. He starts rubbing my clit, drawing the lightest of circles around the nub. Pleasure wraps around my spine and tingles all the way down to my toes. Several more minutes go by. I don't know how much more I can take. My hips start snapping in time to the movements of his finger. I'm panting at this point.
Right as I'm about to start whimpering, Nicco removes his hand from me and hooks a finger around the crotch of my panties. He gives them a firm tug. They slide down to my ankles. I step out of them, and my boss bends over to collect the scrap of black lace and tucks them into the pocket of his trousers.
Hoarsely, he asks, "Will you be able to get any work done like this, Aria?"
I brush a kiss against his neck and counter softly, "Will you?"
There's a very defined tent near his crotch.
He laughs sheepishly and captures my mouth with his, kissing me fully. "All I want to do is take you back to my place and fuck your brains out."
"Not during work hours," I insist with a show of willpower that I didn't know I possessed, "maybe later."
"In that case, I will send my driver to bring you to me after work hours. Tonight."
Sounds good to me. In fact, I can't fucking wait, but I can't resist teasing him, either, "What if I'm busy tonight?"
Nicco grins and slides his hand into his pocket. The one that's hiding my panties. "Then, I will hold onto these forever, as ransom, if you do not come."
Cheeky bastard.
This draws a chuckle from me. "Don't worry, I'll be there. Those panties are La Perla. They cost me an arm and a leg. I can't afford not to come."
He gives my ass a light slap. "Get back to work, Aria, and I will see you tonight."
I give him an impish wink. "See you tonight, boss."
As I turn to exit his office, Nicco calls out, "Wait."
I glance back. "Hmm?"
He smirks. "Do not forget to keep your legs crossed. That pussy is for my eyes only."
Boldly, I tease, "I didn't realize that you were the jealous type, Nicco."
"I am very much the jealous type," he grumbles with a slight scowl, "when it comes to you."
The possessive tone in his voice makes my stupid heart skip a stupid beat. I try to act like he's not affecting me, "Jealousy is unnecessary. Technically, we're not even dating."
I'm telling this to him, but it's more of a reminder for myself to not get too attached.
"I know you said that whatever we are doing is no strings attached, but..."
Eyeing him cautiously, I prompt, "But?"
Nicco stares at me with an intent expression. "As long as I am fucking you, I will not fuck anyone else. I expect the same courtesy from you."
My face softens as my chest swells again with a stupid emotion that I'm too scared to name. "Of course. I have no interest in fucking anyone else when I have you."
He practically beams at me. "From this point on, my cock and I will make sure that you and your pussy want for nothing."
Another laugh spills out of me.
I can't help it.
There's something so charming and carefree and wicked and ridiculous about Nicco that brings out the naughtiest, fuck-it-all parts of myself. He makes me feel free. Yet, he makes me feel safe as well. Safe to fuck up to my heart's content. Safe enough to let my old, broken self come out to play. And, damn, this newfound freedom Nicco has given me is priceless.
As I unlock the door and head out of Nicco's office, I give my boss one last glimpse over my shoulder.
I doubt he'll ever understand how much this means to me, and I hope he never finds out. If I'm not careful, Nicco Vitale might break my heart without even knowing it. I wouldn't survive the fall. Because, in more ways than one, my heart is already damaged beyond repair.
***
With bloodshot eyes, he snarls, "I own you, Ari. I'll never let you go, you hear me? You're mine."
"I know," I whisper, fighting the urge to scream and bash in his skull.
***
The rest of the work day passes by in a blur. Around half past seven, a pensive sigh falls from my lips as the frenzied pace of the afternoon slows to a standstill, and I can finally take a moment to be alone with my thoughts. Not that I welcome it. There's a weight hanging over me that I've been trying to ignore. The heaviness of my memories has yet to ease. I managed to power through the worst of them by focusing on work. Although, admittedly, the endless onslaught of emails, spreadsheets, and reports drove me crazy in a different way.
Needless to say, I'm in a bit of a grumpy, bitchy mood.
With another grumpy, bitchy sigh, I shut down my laptop and prepare to leave the office. It doesn't help that Nicco disappeared from the building more than two hours ago. Without a word or explanation, either. Annoyance tugs at me when I pass by my boss' empty office. He has yet to respond to any of my work-related emails and texts from this afternoon asking where he went and reminding him to look over my notes before tomorrow's meetings.
The OCD freak in me wants to text and call him about our plans tonight, not as his assistant but as his, uh, fuck buddy, I guess?
I'm hesitant to reach out, though. We're not in a relationship, we're only having fun, so I don't want to overstep whatever the boundaries may be. My irritation with him and myself—for not knowing the rules of our game—continues to simmer. I've kept my legs crossed all day for him, damn it. The bastard still has my underwear, but, at this point, who knows if my brains will be getting fucked out this evening?
Disappointment sinks in. I was looking forward to the distraction all day.
Is he going to flake on me?
Probably.
Ugh.
After grabbing my purse and laptop bag, I take the elevator down to the first floor. Once I step outside the lobby, however, to my surprise, I find Nicco's shiny black Bentley already waiting for me at the curb. My boss is nowhere in sight, but his driver, Nils Junior, opens the back passenger door for me. Apparently, the man's father, Nils Senior, used to drive for the Vitales as well.
He nods at me politely. "Good to see you again, Ms. Senarath."
"Hello, Nils," I murmur, eyeing the blonde driver curiously.
Perhaps, Nicco didn't forget about me, after all?
"Mr. Vitale sent me to collect you this evening."
At this, my irritation fades away in an instant. It seems our plans are still in play. Nicco isn't flaking on me, and he didn't forget about me. Delight pulls at the corners of my mouth. I shouldn't feel so pleased about it, but I do.
Suppressing my smile, I shuffle into the backseat. "Thank you so much for the ride."
"My pleasure."
I hesitate for a moment before asking, "Do you know where Nicco might be?"
"Mr. Vitale had a few errands to run this afternoon. But he instructed me to bring you to his apartment. He will meet you there shortly."
"Sounds good," I hum.
Nils Junior shuts the door behind me and heads back to the driver's seat. Soon, the ignition starts, and the engine rumbles. I feel like an imposter as we pull away from the Jackson & James building. I can't believe that I'm being chauffeured around right now in a motherfucking Bentley.
Me.
Aria Yue Senarath.
Daughter of immigrants who came to the States with next to nothing in their bank accounts.
To this day, I still dilute my dishwashing detergent with tap water to make it last longer, for fuck's sake.
Even when I was still working for Jaime, and the money was good, I saved for almost a year before letting myself splurge on my first and only pair of La Perla underwear.
At this moment, for the first time in my life, I feel a bit like a princess. Like I'm actually the main character of a story or something. As the Bentley picks up speed, weaving in and out of the chaotic London traffic, the smile inside me breaks free at last, curving my mouth up and chasing away all of the dark, crazy shit that has been lingering on my mind. I look outside the window like an excited golden retriever—if I had a tail, I'd totally be wagging it—and happily take in the familiar sights and sounds of the city.
At the following red light, Nils Junior coughs from the driver's seat. "By the way, Ms. Senarath, I almost forgot. These are for you."
My eyes widen when he reaches over to hand me a stunning bouquet of pale pink roses and a luxe-looking gift bag.
What in the world?
Feeling somewhat bewildered, I accept the bouquet and the gift bag from Nils Junior. "Thank... you?"
The front of the cream-colored bag has the La Perla logo embossed in gold lettering. No fucking way. My eyelids flutter in surprise. I peer inside the bag and let out a soft gasp. There are three gorgeous sets of lingerie tucked within the bag: A black see-through bra and panty set with intricately embroidered tulle. A corset in dark crimson silk with matching undies and garter. An angelic white nightie made of the most delicate-looking lace.
They're all in my size. I'm stunned. I can only assume that these are from Nicco.
Is this why he left work early today?
Why would he spoil me like this?
What happened to "no strings attached?"
There has to be, at least, over a thousand dollars worth of lingerie in this bag. I'm not my boss' girlfriend, and I have no interest in becoming his sugar baby. I can't possibly accept these gifts. They're worth too much.
The giddiness from mere moments ago shifts to unease. I'm not sure what to do about Nicco's generosity. Honestly, my stupid mood swings today are starting to give me whiplash. Frowning, my eyes dart toward the roses. That's when I notice the handwritten note attached to the bouquet. I pick up the note. It reads: Before you overthink this small gesture and throw a fit over nothing, know that these are for my benefit. Not yours. Pick one to wear for tonight. Remember who I am. I am your God, and your pussy belongs to me.
My mouth drops. A throb of heat clenches my sex. Within seconds, my unease gives way. My mood changes yet again. I'm outraged. I'm turned on. I'm amused. I'm... impressed. I have to admit, Nicco is getting pretty damn good at reading me. He even managed to predict my reaction to the gifts. I can't help but smile again.
This rude, arrogant, fuckable bastard.
I still feel obligated to return his gifts, but, now, I won't feel so bad doing it. Maybe that was the intention tucked within his message all along, though.
To put me more at ease about accepting the gifts?
It wouldn't shock me. I meant what I said to him before. He's definitely more capable than I thought, and he cares for others more than he lets on. As far as rude, arrogant, fuckable bastards go, Nicco can actually be quite considerate.
Close to 7 pm, we arrive at his apartment complex. It's an elegant high-rise building made of steel and glass that towers over the neighborhood. Nils Jr. parks the Bentley in an underground garage and helps me out of the vehicle. I thank him. Then, I make my way toward the private elevator that leads up to Nicco's penthouse, and a flutter of anticipation runs through me.
As the elevator doors slide open with a faint chime, I step into the foyer.
"Hello? Nicco?" I call out softly. "It's me, Aria. I'm... here."
I shuffle through the living room in search of my boss. I take a turn into his kitchen and dining area.
There—my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the unexpected sight that greets me.
A romantic candlelit dinner is set up on the black marble-topped dining table. I see a bottle of expensive-looking wine. Steam rises from a basket of freshly baked focaccia bread. There's also an arugula and fig salad, topped with goat cheese and pecans, and, for the main course, a beautifully plated tomato-based seafood pasta with shrimp, clams, squid, and mussels.
For a second, I'm afraid that I've maybe wandered into the wrong penthouse apartment. All of this gourmet food can't possibly be for me. But then my boss strolls into the room. Our gazes find one another. A spark ignites in the air. His eyes are so green. Piercingly so.
Nicco is still wearing the same dress shirt and gray trousers from work. The only difference is that he has since removed his tie, the top two buttons on his crisp white shirt are unbuttoned, and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing thick veins along tanned forearms. I can't help but stare. And stare. And stare.
God.
He is my God.
Could he be any more attractive?
I am ready to worship him right then and there. A bitch could get used to coming home to this man every ni—
Wait.
No.
I don't allow my brain to finish the thought. It's too dangerous. Too full of expectations that would only lead to disappointment.
There's a smile in Nicco's beautiful eyes when he says, "You are here at last. I assume you are hungry?"
My mouth waters at the delicious aroma of fresh bread and pasta. "A little."
He holds out his hand to me. "Come here, you."
His voice is low and magnetic. I go to him like a puppet pulled on strings, placing my smaller hand in his larger one as he leads me to the dining table. Nicco pulls out the chair for me like a goddamn gentleman. Despite my better judgment, my heart swells with pleasure. Like a happy, over-inflated balloon. I'm afraid it might pop.
Everything about tonight makes me feel like I matter. To Nicco. The gifts in the Bentley. This dinner. The intent, adoring way he keeps looking at me.
I've never had a steady boyfriend, but I've dated plenty of boys, not men, mind you, in my time. I don't know if any of those guys, not even the semi-decent ones that actually seemed interested in getting to know me before making a move, has ever treated me this well on a date?
Wait.
Hold up.
Date?
This word gives me pause. I consider our current predicament, studying Nicco closely.
Are we on a date right now?
Or is this how my boss treats all of the women he fucks?
This shit is certainly starting to feel like a date. Suddenly, I feel a bit overwhelmed. Confused. Off balance. A pang of longing hits low in the belly. I'm scared to give in to it and resist these unfamiliar feelings like a stubborn motherfucker.
One trifling thought, however, manages to worm its way to the surface: If this is the way my boss treats a fuck buddy, then I envy the woman who might someday capture his heart. The gnawing sting of jealousy begins to eat at me. I should know better than to let myself care too much. But the heart wants what it wants, and I think mine is falling for Nicco. Feeling more than a little troubled, I bite my lower lip. Time to set some more boundaries in place.
Before my stupid heart fucks up the one good thing in my life right now.